


Exit Sign in the Mirror

by keysmash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Menstrual Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 19:36:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysmash/pseuds/keysmash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/"><b>blindfold_spn</b></a>.<br/>(Prompt: Dean/girl!sam Sex/oral sex during girl!sam's "time of the month.")</p>
    </blockquote>





	Exit Sign in the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/profile)[**blindfold_spn**](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/).  
> (Prompt: Dean/girl!sam Sex/oral sex during girl!sam's "time of the month.")

Sam lets things go pretty fucking far before she bothers to tell him. The whiskey's halfway gone and the movie's almost over before she says anything; she's been shirtless in Dean's lap for almost an hour, moaning into their sloppy kisses and letting him palm her tits through her bra, before she mentions it. It's not until he slides one hand down, tucking his thumb into her waistband and splaying his fingers across her belly, that she deathgrips his wrist and pulls away from his mouth.

"Dean," she says. He tries to catch her lips again but she shakes her head. When he ducks to meet her gaze, she looks away.

"You wanna take this to the bed?" He jerks his head back over his shoulder, away from the couch and towards the rest of this rat-trap's improbable suite, and hopes that all she wants is a change in location.

She shakes her head, though, and bites her bottom lip. Dean tries to lean forward, to lick the marks her teeth make, but she stays out of his way. He can't tell if she's blushing or if it's the alcohol turning her pink.

"I'm." She glances down at his hand, still trapped by her own, and now she definitely is red from embarrassment, because she shakes her head to let her hair cover her face and hides firmly behind her shorter layers.

"Dean I'm on the rag right now okay?" she finally blurts. He thinks her eyes are closed under there. She tries to clamber out of his lap but Dean wraps his other arm around her waist and holds her in place for a moment.

"You are?" he says. He knows, in theory, that women bleed, but he's never been up close or personal with it since Sam panicked at him about her very first period, almost a decade ago. Chicks must not look to hook up in bars when they're on the rag, because he's never had a one-nighter with a woman bleeding, and things were over with Cassie before they made it to the last quarter of her birth control packet.

Sam snorts and nods. Her hair brushes over his face, and this time, when Dean leans up, she lets him suck her bottom lip into his mouth. He tugs her more firmly against his hips, thrusting up a few times to make sure she can feel how hard he is, and keeps his hand spreading over her navel.

It's not like they've never had each other's blood on their hands before.

He kisses her until she starts kissing back, until she's rocking into his thrusts and pressing her crotch against him.

"Do you still wanna?" he asks. He traces his thumb back and forth under her jeans, wrigging until he's brushing the elastic of her panties.

She pants, whiskey-breath hot in his face, and he hears her swallow hard before she nods, brushing their cheeks together twice. He shudders and pulls her down tight into his lap; she's not staining through her jeans or anything, so it must all be in his head, but it _seems_ like she's burning against him, hot and wet on his cock even through all the fabric.

And maybe he's too sloshed to manage carrying her to bed without running into shit and almost tumbling them both to the floor, but the trip gets her laughing instead of hiding her face in his neck, and with Sam stretched out across the latest tacky bedspread, watching him undress with her mouth open and her hair messy underneath her, Dean's stubbed toe seems worth it.

She gets her hands underneath his when he tries to take off her pants, and hooks her thumbs in her panties so that she wriggles out of her underwear at the same time as her jeans. She balls them up a little before dropping them off the edge of the bed and Dean goes with it, lying next to her without looking at the clothes. Her thigh is warm and smooth, and he thrusts his dick against it almost idly. Sam closes her eyes when he thumbs open the clasp between her breasts and peels her bra to the side. He ducks his head and kisses her neck, letting them both hide their faces for a moment.

Sam starts to shake when he palms down her torso, when he slides his hand over her hip and through the curls over her cunt. If he didn't know better, if they were doing this in the dark, he'd think it was so fucking hot, that she'd soaked her pubes and the soft skin high on the inside of her thighs. He can't ignore the stickiness to the slide of his fingers, though, or the way it sounds like someone was punching every breath out of her.

He slides his fingers inside her, so slow, and they go easier than ever before. _This_ part isn't different at all, just Sam clenching juicy and hot around him like any other time in bed, but she bucks hard against him, the way she usually does when she's coming.

"Dean," she says, desperate, and he glances down her body as he slides his fingers back and then thrusts them back in. He has this crazy drunken perspective from his viewpoint by her collarbone, of her bra cups hanging loose in her armpits, and her nipples tight and red, and her hips shifting as she moves her legs and plants her feet, and his hand, right between her thighs. She stutter-jerks up at him again when Dean thumbs at her clit, and when he pulls his hand back again, he can just see the highest reaches of blood on his fingers, shining red in the TV's light.

Sam grabs his hair and tugs him back to her mouth, keeping him there with a firm grip on the back of his neck. He rolls his hips in time with the thrusts of his hand, pressing his dick in slick trails over her hip, until she bites his lip and whines at him.

"C'mon," she says, almost slurring, "any day now Dean, c'mon."

She still won't meet his gaze as he shifts her legs around, as he pulls his hand away and slides between her thighs. He leaves red fingerprints on one hip as he grips her, slipping when he tries to get a good hold, and thrusts shallowly at her, dragging the head of his dick between her lips without pressing inside. Sam groans and arches toward him, and Dean braces his free hand by her head to do it again.

The idea seems obvious now that he's here, watching his dick get stained with the proof that he and Sam _aren't_ making any mutant babies, but it takes a second before he can wrap his tongue around the words.

"Sam, can I, I mean, I wanna go without." He ducks down to brush their noses together, and stays close to Sam's face until she opens her eyes. Her pupils are blown wide and she doesn't look away from him. "Please, Sammy, please just this once?"

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth and Dean's gaze falls to her mouth, watching her bite down until the skin starts to whiten from the pressure. She swallows before she nods. Dean lowers himself further to lick at her mouth, feeling her hiss when his tongue traces over the sore spots, and then drops their foreheads together as he thrusts inside.

He hardly ever goes bareback -- he's not stupid and he doesn't want to catch anything or leave a kid behind. He and Sam have never done it before, but he'd be happy getting snipped if it meant he could have this every night for the rest of his – yeah.

Sam's staring at him, slack-mouthed and wide-eyed and completely out of focus, and she's so wet around his dick, like the most reassuring _yeah, you turn me on like nothing else ever has_ Dean's ever felt. Dean forces a hand under her, holding the small of her back, and presses them together, the way he knows she really likes. He thrusts a few times, long and slow into her, before she clutches at his ass as he's bottomed out, holding their hips tight together.

"Oh fuck," Dean mutters, because he knows what's coming.

Sam winds her legs around his, squaring her feet against the mattress at the inside of his knees and then worming her toes under his shins. She holds his ass in place, keeping his dick deep, and rolls up against him. Her breath hitches as she rubs her clit on him, and the blood smeared between them makes this easy in a way it's never been without lube. They smell musky, earthy, the way they do on jobs and during PT, and there's not a hint of latex or artificial flavoring to distract from the truth of what they're doing. Sam shakes when she comes, and Dean grits his teeth to keep from following. He swears he can feel blood gush when her cunt clenches around him.

He gets her off again before he finishes, this time rolling her clit between two fingers as he sits back on his heels and watches his dick slide in and out of her, red and sloppy. Sam's opened her eyes by now, and Dean watches her eyes flick to the messy streaks on the two of them. Their thighs and pubes are both a lost cause, and Sam's got bloody handprints all up and down her sides. Dean's especially happy with the fingerprints on one breast, just above and just below the tip of her nipple, and when he finally comes, pumping hard and adding to the mess, he's got his mouth there, licking her clean.


End file.
